Damnation and Salvation
by Amousca
Summary: The Hero of Tristram just turned the Wanderer, and discovers exactly why he should have listened when Redhead tried to make him hear reason.
1. The Damned and the Hopeless

_So, as promised (long ago), this is the sequel to "Wisdom and corruption". I would suggest reading the first part first, but if you're determined you can start from here. Suffice it to say that Shurvi is the warrior hero from D1, who killed his rogue companion because she tried to convince him not to be foolish enough to stick a Soulstone in his forehead._

_It's been a while since I've been on Diablo's forums, but I hope I'll get some reviews :) Please, it's when we get comments that we can better our writing skills._

_**Damnation and Salvation**_

Chapter I. The Damned and the Hopeless

Shurvi walked, endlessly, through the desert. He had long abandoned any hope of salvation. He was a prisoner to his body, looking at another mind commanding his feet forward, with intent of freeing his brothers, and rain death upon the land. Him, the great Hero of Tristram, had taken barely three weeks to be completely overrun. Now that he was just held at bay at the back of his body, while Diablo possessed it, Diablo's hold on his mind had weakened, and he felt how much Liria had been right. He also felt great guilt to have killed her, and even greater guilt not to have felt anything doing it.

She had been his best friend, his companion in arms, he had shared everything with her during the weeks they were exploring the cathedral. And she had tried to save him even as he was turning away from her to listen to a demon bound to a Soulstone.

Diablo lashed at his spirit in his mind, silencing him with the brutal force of Evil and Terror. Shurvi cowered in a corner of his mind, in utter silence, feeding Diablo's cruel satisfaction with his helpless fear.

At length the demon lifted his mental heavy hand, turning his attention elsewhere, always forcing their shared body to walk, forever through the desert. They had arrived at Lut Gholein, and there the demon would find where his brother was entombed and imprisoned. Shurvi was now too scared of losing what little was left of his mind under Diablo's mental hammer, to try to resist. He watched in fear for all these people living in that city.

ooooo

Diablo found the canyon in the desert where there were seven tombs. Of course, the Lord of Terror could not mistake the prison of the Lord of Destruction for anything, and he walked confidently into the right tomb.

Shurvi willed every feet to stay where it was at each step, but with the growing proximity of another Prime Evil, his mastery over his own body was weaker and weaker. Then they reached the funeral chamber, and then he was pushed aside brutally by Baal's evil aura. Every thread of slight bond he still had with his body suddenly erupted in unspeakable pain. He screamed and screamed, body and soul, until suddenly he was evicted from his body, like a snail out of its shell. He was pushed aside by Diablo's essence as it was partly freed by Bhaal's presence. The switch of ownership of the body took only an instant, and Diablo began to grow some horns out of what had been the Wanderer's skull. Shurvi found himself still tethered to his body, although definitely banished from it, and was dragged forcibly along as Diablo walked forward in the chamber. Any witch that would have seen Diablo would have seen the banished soul tethered to it, following, obviously in pain and sad, but dispossessed of its body.

Shurvi's attention was focused in rapt terror at the bound Lord of Destruction, watching what had once been his hand come closer to the Soulstone embedded in the demon's chest. It came as a surprise when suddenly there was someone trying to stop Diablo.

Shurvi watched in awe the great Archangel battle Diablo inhabiting his body, hoping for a time that if the Archangel battled Diablo, maybe he would be free. He did not care if his body died. He wished only for freedom, and for forgiveness if he was allowed. But the Archangel lost the battle. Shurvi ached almost physically from seeing the proud creature of Light being brought down on its knees before the two Prime Evils. But he was helpless. He could do nothing else. He followed once more when the two brothers continued East, towards Kurast, to free the last imprisoned brother. Shurvi could not see Tal Rasha's banished soul, but he was sure that the Horadrim mage was condemned to the same fate as him.

He watched again as the demons reached the temple of Kurast. They spent a lot of time and took lengthy pleasure in corrupting the council, at least what Mephisto had had the thoughtfulness to leave them. The demons laughed and rejoiced as they performed their dark magics to change the orb of protection from a defence mechanism for the land of Kurast to something that would keep any righteousness at bay.

Then Diablo and Bhaal descended through the ranks of demons crowding the Durance of Hate, and reached their brother.

Shurvi had thought he was definitely separated from his body, but he nevertheless felt a searing pain as it was changed to Diablo's true, corporeal form, by Mephisto's power. Then he crossed the gate to Hell, following his body always, and found himself amidst the tortured souls of the damned. He felt no less damned than all the souls condemned to Hell, sentenced as he was to watch Diablo commit atrocities for all eternity.

He found himself thinking it was a fitting punishment for his arrogance and selfishness, that he be forced to witness the suffering of all humanity for eternity.

ooooo

Diablo started swiftly on the task given to him by his elder brother, and started to rise Hells' armies. He protected himself within a pentagram, as was his custom, and from there gave orders to his generals. Shurvi felt the bitter irony that he had broken a similar pentagram with Liria's help, to now find Diablo protected by one again, and himself trapped within.

The warrior's heart sank with every new order Diablo gave; he knew soon why the Damned were also called the Hopeless. He could cry, he could scream, he could kick at his body or Diablo that possessed it, he was simply brushed aside by the Lord of Terror, and it mattered not.

But his torment lasted a lot less long than he had expected. A few weeks later, by human standards, Diablo felt the seals being broken one after the other, and so Shurvi was made aware of it. The Lord of Terror prepared for battle. He was unspeakably furious at being defied by a mortal a second time in so little time, but he was confident nothing could beat him, Diablo, the Lord of Terror, the King of Hells, in his own sanctuary. Besides, this new nuisance of a hero would have lost a few feathers after going through Lord de Seis.

And finally, the demon was pulled out of the pentagram. Shurvi watched as Diablo emerged; the Hero facing them was a lone woman. She was wearing a gothic armour, with runes embedded in the breastplate, and wielding a staff. Some sort or another of magician, Shurvi thought with pity and sorrow, knowing she stood no chance against a physical fighter like Diablo.

But then she activated spells, among which he recognized Mana shield, and started running. Shurvi was astounded at the speed she could move, and she also had an habit of teleporting all the time, which was making things difficult for Diablo. Shurvi surveyed as each spell hitting the demon depleted his former body's strength.

He watched every single move taken by either Diablo or the lone woman, feeling as though his heart was torn each time she took a hit, and feeling cold dread each time the demon was hurt. Shurvi did not dare hope that she had a chance. Each successful spell only angered the demon. Shurvi was a seasoned warrior, but often he felt the urge to cover his eyes not to look at what the Lord of Terror would do to her if she let him get within range.

In the end, as impossibly as he had thought it possible, the demon was slain.

Shurvi looked in utter disbelief. The Hero drank a few potions and took the time to catch her breath. Shurvi saw how much she was careful, so much like Liria, and he was reminded of his missing companion. The spellcaster plucked Diablo's Soulstone from his forehead, and suddenly Shurvi was dragged back into his body. It seemed nothing was left of it but an empty shell filled with unspeakable, agonizing, numbing pain, caused by electricity, fire and blades of ice running through his hide. Shurvi drew staggering breaths, his vision darkening.

He saw the face of the spellcaster within his diminishing range of vision. She said kindly:

"You are free, Hero. He is defeated, and you are free."

He shook his head, tried to speak, but his voice was lost in a gurgle of blood. Then he tried again. "Stone…" He interrupted himself, not able to get another word out of his throat. He needed to warn her, her had to warn her against its corrupting power… If only he had listened to Liria… If only the Hero would now listen to him…

"I will destroy it," she assured him. "Be at peace, Hero," she said. And he closed his eyes, and he stopped breathing, welcoming the final release, and praying for forgiveness still.


	2. The Dead and the Ascended

_Hello again!_

_Kura-Ookami: thanks for review and for your good words :)_

_Mystiquefan: thanks for the review :) I hope you still like the emotional conflict in this piece of story._

_BloodHeron: hey! Welcome back! It's nice to hear from you again and to know you haven't stopped reading my stuff, even if you didn't review. Thanks for your nice words :)_

_Kyubak: thanks for the review :) If you're interested in hearing more of this sorceress, I would suggest reading Archangels learn (sorry, I can't help plugging my own stuff, but hey, what do you expect from a review-addict?). It's nice to know that you read Wisdom and Corruption. I'll take you comment here as a token of appreciation for the precedent story, because if you hadn't liked it, you wouldn't be here reading and reviewing this :) So double thanks for the review ;)_

_Please, anyone, feel free to review :)_

Chapter IX. The Dead and the Ascended

Liria's ghost cried of sadness and screamed of anger as it rose from her body, dead at the hands of her friend, whom she had loved in secret. She looked at him planting the stone in his forehead, and she felt the pain as if it was happening to herself.

"You have done everything you could, my friend," she heard, a voice she had never heard before.

She turned, knowing with unearthly senses that the voice was addressing her. There was an angel there, and she stared in shock.

"Who are you?", she asked.

"I am Arkaine."

She stared in silence a little more. "I am… I am honoured to meet you."

He nodded once. "And I am honoured that my armour was retrieved and worn by you in such glorious battles."

This sentence dispelled the awe he had inspired in her. "Glorious?", she yelled. "I just died at the Burnt head's hands!"

"You died a glorious death, trying to pull your friend away from the clutches of Diablo. You were very close to succeeding, and only that is a great accomplishment."

"An _accomplishment_?", she screamed with the fire that made Shurvi call her "Red head". "It's as though he just committed suicide, and he is a lot worse off than a suicided soul! I can't believe I'm hearing this! It's a tragedy! It's unfair! It's the most terrible thing that's happened in my life, and it's the most, utterly most evil thing that could ever happen to him! Why did he deserve this? How dare you say that my failure is an accomplishment?"

Then she began crying.

"Do not rebel," the angel said soothingly, touching her shoulder gently with his wing. "He has met his fate, and you have met yours. This is how things are. His soul is not yet lost, and there are other events unfolding."

"What events?", she asked in a bored tone, indicating clearly that she did not believe anything would save him.

"In time, child. In time," the angel answered. He then took her body, and she followed him through the levels of the cathedral until they were in the catacombs. He removed and repaired Valour with a touch of magic, and replaced it within its crypt, although now it would bear the name of Liria's Valour, even if no one would forget it was once Arkaine's. Then, he took her body, and buried it within one of the places of the dead.

"You are buried here, among Horadrim and sages of great renown," Arkaine said.

She looked as he made her body rest within a crypt, next to other dried bodies and skeletons. She was indifferent. She was dead, and Shurvi was damned. It hardly seemed to matter that her body lay between Horadrim of renown or among the carrion.

Then she was carried upwards to the High Heavens by the angel. There he put her in some white antechamber, where the atmosphere was calm and soft, and told her this place was hers to do with as she wished for the duration of her wait.

"Wait… what wait?", she asked.

"In time, child," Arkaine repeated, although kindly. "There is one other thing I should tell you. Although you believe yourself a disincarnated soul, your spirit has hold on the material world; you will want to know this in the near future," he said, and he disappeared.

Once alone, she stared in disbelief at the whiteness of the place she was in, and collapsed in what she imagined was a corner. She took her head in her hands and cried for a while, almost feeling the despair she figured the damned soul of Shurvi would feel at that moment.

She was not one to tolerate inactivity well, however, and eventually she turned to look at her new "residence" with some interest. It took her a while to figure it out, but she had some sort of control over the place. She could give it the appearance that she wished, and she made it look like Ogden's busy tavern, or the quiet of a riverbank, or the Rogue Monastery where she had trained. She could also observe the mortals, and she spent a time travelling through kingdoms she would not have seen any other way. Finally, which she discovered last, she could, with some extension of the exploration she was allowed of the mortals' lands, travel through time also. That is how she renewed in a way with her family. Going back in time to a fateful night before she went back to Tristram, she saw the monsters come out of the cathedral for their first venture on the surface. She learned with a strange gratefulness her family's quick death at doomknights' hands; they were not desecrated or demonized. They just died, and their souls travelled upwards through the planes until they crossed the plane where she resided, and further up until they disappeared from her knowledge. She understood, with her new unearthly and unsettling senses, that they had reached Paradise, and were there beyond her ability to see.

And, one day, Arkaine came back, arriving in her "residence" unexpectedly. She had been observing the past, revisiting quiet memories of her childhood and seeking to forget about the destruction and rise of demons she had observed earlier in Khanduras, in the Wanderer's wake.

"The events have unfolded," Arkaine announced. He took her hand and guided her away from her shelter, downwards through the planes.


	3. The Judgement

_Hi!_

_Kyubak and Mystiquefan, thanks for your reviews :) I'm very glad to know you're reading and enjoying my stories. You've both made me smile :)_

_This was a rather short story, and here is the end. Please, I'm waiting for reviews :)_

Chapter III. The Judgement

"What events?" Liria asked Arkaine.

The angel did not answer, which was an habit she was beginning to find annoying. He guided her in silence, and after crossing immeasurable distance, she found herself hovering over Hell. It was a terrible sight, this River of Fire and the tortured souls, but she had seen hell in the bowels of the cathedral, and she was somewhat prepared.

"Come with me now, child," Arkaine said. She was a little bothered at being called child, but he was an angel, so she did not protest too much. She did as commanded and followed him.

Then she saw Shurvi's ghost, prostrate over his own body, unmoving. She gasped. What had happened? How had he been killed, how had he been freed of Diablo's hold over his soul?

"Burnt head!", she exclaimed.

He turned, looked at her and Arkaine, and she saw his familiar features cloud with bewilderment. "Liria?", he wondered, forgetting to call her by her nickname in his confusion. "What… the hell?"

In a flash in her mind she remembered Arkaine telling her that she had control over the material world. She did not stop to think twice of it and bolted towards Shurvi. She crashed into him with a stunning sense of materiality. She felt his weight when he staggered back, his heat, and the coarseness of his unshaven face when their cheeks touched. She hugged him with all her incorporeal strength, and he held her back just as fiercely.

"Check your language, young man," Arkaine warned kindly. "You find yourself in Hell after all, and if you do not prove worthy of forgiveness, you will stay."

"So he's a young man and I'm a child?", Liria snapped at Arkaine, letting go of Shurvi. She had had enough of that.

Arkaine smiled. Her fire was quite refreshing, reminding him of his long gone mortal years. "I thought it more fitting for a young lady," he answered evenly.

"Hey! I'm here!", Shurvi suddenly bellowed. "Could someone please explain to me what is happening?" He had quite clearly forgotten his prostrate body.

"Yes, that is a legitimate request. My name is Arkaine, and I have been appointed as your guardian angel just recently."

"What a job you've done," Shurvi snorted. Liria elbowed him painfully in the ribs.

The angel's eyes flashed with wrath, but he went on in a civil enough manner. "There is only so much I can do for you, mortal. You have your own part to play in your own destiny."

Shurvi stole a guilty sidelong glance at Liria before he nodded his agreement. "I suppose I haven't made such a good job of it myself."

That clearly appeased Arkaine. "You have nevertheless accomplished great things in your life. You have defeated powerful demons and have chosen freely to risk your life so you could defend others. You have acted out of loyalty for your king, not out of greed for power or desire for conquest. Nevertheless, you have committed grave sins, Shurvi. You have murdered an innocent; this innocent was a friend of yours, she was a hero of as much valour as you, and she should have been worth your trust. You have succumbed to the evil, and your weakness has caused great pain. Another Hero arose, and took upon herself to chase the Three brothers your actions had freed, to great cost to herself. Your soul therefore requires judgement, to determine if you are worthy of Paradise or should pay in Hell for your sins."

Shurvi bowed before the angel, and Liria was rather surprised to see him do that. "I accept those charges, Arkaine. I have failed, I have fallen to the influence of the Soulstone, and I have let it win over my trust of the Red head. But I did trust her. I just… lost that trust when I… when I touched the stone, I think. I ask forgiveness. For all of it. I have no excuses. I thought I was a coward if I did not, but in fact I was arrogant to think that I was the saviour, that I had the answer to Diablo's Soulstone. Liria was right, and Diablo must have played on my arrogance to get me to ignore her." There was a long silence, Arkaine looking dispassionately at Shurvi on his knees before him. The warrior swallowed and bowed his head. "I could have been manipulated by Diablo," he added, "or it could have been just plainly my own arrogance's doing."

The angel gave no intention of in what direction he might be inclined regarding the fate of Shurvi's soul. The warrior took a breath and turned to Liria.

"I guess that if I'm given the chance, then I should at least do my apologies properly. If Heaven will not forgive me, then at least you. I would like to beg you, but that would be unworthy of you. I can only hope that you will be fair to me, when I gave you no reason to be. Forgive me my foolishness. Forgive me… for not trusting you. Forgive me… for killing you like the bastard I am. Forgive me." He abruptly paused. "I think… I think I might have loved you too, if there hadn't been the labyrinth's darkness. If those are the last words you hear me speak, please just remember them."

She looked at him, down on his knees in front of her, the brash warrior always jumping into the fray with savage yells of triumph. He was looking up at her, pleading in his eyes, and guilt in his features. She knew him well enough to read his emotions in his face like in a book.

There was a long silence.

"I forgive you, Shurvi," she finally said. "I will not hold it against you to be human and have a weakness."

He felt a great calm and acceptance wash over him. Her opinion mattered, more than even Arkaine's. Because his heart had really been touched as she had said she loved him, and it was in her eyes that he wished to be redeemed. The guilt and torment calmed within his soul, and he was more at peace in this instant than he had been in years.

He opened his eyes after a while, and he turned to Arkaine. "I am ready for your judgement."

The angel was smiling gently. "I am not here to judge you," Arkaine said gently. "Paradise does not judge souls for entrance in Paradise; the souls decide for themselves with their actions and their worth. I was only here so you had the possibility to make your choice. You have already paid much for your sins, and have tried to do much for the Light, and so you are forgiven, but you are not judged."

Shurvi bowed his head.

"It's time to thank someone, Burnt head!", Liria reminded.

"Thank you, Arkaine," Shurvi said, trying to conceal the smile on his lips.

"Don't even try!", Liria accused, laughing.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot… thank you, Red head!"

She smiled at him, a radiant smile that would have carried him up to Heaven even without Arkaine's guidance.

THE END


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